


Hunting 101

by Sylvia_Locust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Pre-Series, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvia_Locust/pseuds/Sylvia_Locust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't wait to be an awesome hunter like his dad. Sam is his reluctant (and grumpy) accomplice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting 101

**Author's Note:**

> 10 drabbles I wrote for [](http://spn-bigpretzel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-bigpretzel.livejournal.com/)**spn_bigpretzel** 's white hats v. black hats challenge. Preseries silliness.

 

**Lesson 1: Knife Safety**

“This is _so_ not a good idea,” Sam said as he looked between the array of knives on the motel bedspread and the chalk outline Dean had drawn on the bathroom door.

“It’s a great idea,” Dean said. “Dad’ll be so impressed, he’ll have to take me out on a hunt with him.”

Sam snorted. “You’re 12, dork. Dad’s not going to take you hunting.”

“Just watch.”

Sam watched. The knife sailed end over end and thunked harmlessly, handle first, against the door before falling to the ground.

“Way to give the enemy your weapon,” Sam said.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 2: Hustling**

The community rec center was a hive of activity after school. The boys in the corner caught her attention because they were so serious as they lined up shots on the worn pool table while the other kids ran around like howler monkeys.

Brothers, she supposed. The little one didn’t seem to be making much progress.

She left her post by the water fountain and wandered closer to see if she could help.

“That’s it, Sammy,” she heard. “Now you’ve got ’em where you want ’em. Go double or nothing, run the table, and then run like hell. Easy money.”

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 3: Research**

It wasn’t _his_ fault. This was Dean’s stupid idea.

“Gotta find this ghost,” Dean said as he steered Sam towards the library’s microfiche machines. “Show dad we can help out. You check out old newspapers and I’ll ask around.”

When Dean returned an hour later, gloating because the sexy library aide told him what they needed to know about the run-down house on Sauerkraut Lane, he took one look at Sam and doubled over laughing.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam scowled.

It was _definitely_ not Sam’s fault that he’d somehow managed to end up wrapped in film like a freaking mummy.

 

* * * * *

**Lesson 4: Salt and Burn**

“Jeffrey Dahmer cut up dead animals when he was a kid,” Sam said as he watched his brother dig up the neighbor’s beagle.

“I’m not dismembering Pickles, jerk,” Dean said. “I’m putting her spirit to rest. Gimme the lighter fluid.”

The flood light came on suddenly and Dean squeezed the bottle in surprise. A stream of accelerant poured into the shallow grave.

“You said they were out of town!” Sam grabbed the shovel and Morton’s as Dean threw down a book of matches.

The fire blazed high into the air. Sam would laugh at Dean’s singed eyebrows for weeks.

 

* * * * *

**Lesson 5: Journaling**

Ms. McCord was a big fan of ’journaling.’ The boys in his class made fun of the assignment, called diaries girly, and Dean laughed easily along with them.

But his dad’s journal could save lives, and Dean took the exercise seriously.

He was two states away by the time Ms. McCord idly picked up his notebook and started to skim.

“My dad is a hero,” she read, slight smile on her face. She’d certainly seen that phrase before.

“My dad is a hero because he knows how to kill werewolves and ghosts and those weird lizard-ladies...”

 

* * * * *

**Lesson 6: Combat**

“Something you boys want to tell me?” John asked.

“No sir,” they chorused.

“Any particular reason why you two were beating the tar out of each other in the courtyard?”

“We were just playing,” Sam mumbled through his split lip.

“No we weren’t, we were practicing!” Dean said.

John rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his beard. “Practicing what, Dean?”

“Hand to hand combat. So we can put those monsters down!” His eyes gleamed and his fists clenched. Next to him Sam rolled his eyes.

John sighed.

“All right, boys,” he said. “First thing you need to know is the stance...”

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 7: Restraints**

John staggered into their apartment, exhausted, pizza in one hand and a 2-liter of Sprite in the other.

He stopped in the entryway, taking in the scene.

“Dean. Why is your brother tied to a lawn chair?” John asked evenly.

“He needs to learn how to escape! For when the bad guys tie him up!”

“Lemme go, jerk!” Sam yelled.

“Fine,” John said as he entered the kitchenette, smile playing on his lips.

John had been knocked around by monsters, sure, but in all his years of hunting nobody had ever tied him to a chair.  
 _Kids._

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 8: Flirting**

“No.”

“C’mon, Sammy, sometimes you gotta grease the wheels a little.”

“Like you know what that means.”

Dean didn’t, but if his dad said it that was good enough.

“If you can get crabby Missus Littleford to waive the fine on that nerd book—”

“ _The Hobbit_ isn’t nerdy!” Sam flushed. “’Sides, it’s your fault I didn’t return it on time!”

“A cheeseburger says you can’t.”

Sam squared his shoulders and marched up to the circulation desk, turned his wide eyes on the librarian, and was sent away with a fond smile.

Dean was impressed, not that he’d tell Sam.

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 9: First-Aid**

Sam was scowling. “This is stupid,” he said. _I don’t want to have to do this,_ Dean heard. _Ever._

“C’mon, Sammy, it’s important. Remember when Dad...” Dean trailed off, but Sam got his meaning.

Sam’s stitches were neat and precise, just like Dean had known they would be. The curved upholstery needle pierced and closed off, pierced and closed off.

“Is he going to be okay?” asked the trembling little girl watching over Sam’s work.

Finally finished, Sam presented Maddie with her stuffed horse, Mr. Withers.

“He’ll be fine,” Sam said. “Just keep him away from your dog from now on.”

 

* * * * *

 

**Lesson 10: Breaking & Entering**

“There!” Sam said as the front door to their trailer swung open. “Told you I could do it faster.”

“‘Cause you got stumpy little kid fingers,” said Dean.

“Nuh uh. I’ll still be better at picking locks when I’m twice as big as you.”

“You’re the little brother,” Dean scoffed. “You’ll never be bigger than me.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Sorry, Sammy. You’ll just have to get used to being a shrimp all your life.”

Sam scowled and crossed his arms. “You wait,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

“Whatever,” Dean said. “Let’s see if you can bust out of Dad’s trunk.”

 


End file.
